


2am

by misdemeanour



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, One-sided pining, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misdemeanour/pseuds/misdemeanour
Summary: 2am run to Burger King for fries and a taste of early morning air. Rachel, bright and blinding as the California sun, sits sandwiched between Max and Chloe. Off-key singing fills her ears except Chloe sounds pretty okay next to Rachel, who sings horribly on purpose; maybe to make Max laugh because she won’t stop shooting quick glances her way. She ignores the way her smiles make her stomach flip.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've debated over whether or not to re-post this. This may seem familiar to some, as it was admittedly part of an amberpricefield drabble series, driftwood. I deleted driftwood in the back end of September because I had grown unhappy with it, and wasn't producing content for it anyway. I still happen to like the first entry, so I'm deciding to post it as a stand-alone.

2am run to Burger King for fries and a taste of early morning air. Rachel, bright and blinding as the California sun, sits sandwiched between Max and Chloe. Off-key singing fills her ears except Chloe sounds pretty okay next to Rachel, who sings horribly on purpose; maybe to make Max laugh because she won’t stop shooting quick glances her way. She ignores the way her smiles make her stomach flip.

All three of them sitting on the bed of Chloe’s truck, waves crashing against the shore in a way that makes Max feel sleepy. Rachel and Chloe pass a joint back and forth, red embers drifting in the wind up, up, up. Above her, the night sky unfolds in a tapestry of so many points of lights she never saw back in Seattle.

She’s tired in a bone deep way, exhaustion a fog that rests heavy in her mind. The smell of weed does little to help matters, but she finds she doesn’t mind it. Max feels safe here, with Rachel and Chloe beside her. Safe enough to close her eyes.

They talk in whispers now. Chloe snorts back a laugh and Rachel continues to murmur in that honeyed voice of hers.

“Be quiet,” she says, “don’t wake little Bambi.” Amusement rides the words. A sharp laugh fills the air again, unmistakably Chloe. Rough as sandpaper.

“I’m serious,” Rachel isn’t being serious. Max can hear her slap Chloe on the shoulder playfully. “She’s not sleeping. Girl saws logs louder than any lumberjack.” Quiet, and then fabric shifting on the metal beneath them. The smell of pot and incense fill her nose.

“You awake?” Fingers tug at the sleeve of her hoodie, gentle but insistent. (She always gets what she wants.) Max wedges one eye open: Rachel peers down at her, hair a perfect curtain of gold.

“No, I’m fast asleep,” A crooked smile twists her mouth, which Rachel mirrors with a grin of her own. She’s so pretty. Not pretty in the way Chloe is, no. Pretty in the sense she’s all gilded sunlight and warmth. It’s hard not to get addicted to basking in her glow. She gets why Chloe adores her so much; she’s beginning to suspect she’s a little in love with her, too.

Rachel’s grin doesn’t falter, and neither does the way she holds Max’s eyes. It’s enough to make her shiver, despite the thick hoodie she’s wearing, despite the way Rachel’s thigh presses into her shoulder, a warm and comforting weight.

“See?” Chloe destroys the moment unintentionally. “I told you.” She flicks the remains of the joint out into the sand, arm dangling over the side of her truck. Rachel tosses a look over her shoulder, no doubt making a goofy face at Chloe. If she closes her eyes, she can picture the way Rachel would stick her tongue out just-so, the look of mock offense Chloe would give her.

“Let’s get Bambi back to Blackwell.” Rachel suggests, scooting away from Max. The space where she used to be is cold.

She follows the other two out of the truck bed, this time sitting in the middle during the ride back. They don’t sing, too tired or too high, or some combination of the two. Silence has never bothered Max, but she knows it makes Chloe uncomfortable. Can tell that’s exactly what’s happening now with the way her fingers drum listlessly on the steering wheel. Beside her, Rachel has her head on the window, asleep or pretending to be. A few minutes later, they arrive in Blackwell’s parking lot at well past four.

“Here we are, Mad Max,” Chloe glances over at her, a half-smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. There’s something wistful in her expression that Max can’t quite place. “you’re so kind to let us abduct you in the wee hours of the morning.”

“You two are such bad influences,” Max rubs at her eyes, hates how dry and heavy they feel. “I’m totally going to fall asleep in class now.”

The half-smile grows into a proper smile. “You love it.” She does; letting them know as much would spell disaster. For her, anyway, she’d never hear the end of it.  
Rachel shifts then, stretching like a cat. “Ugh, you’re not the only one who has class tomorrow.” She pops the door open, cold night air gusting into the cabin.

“Go on, then, get,” Chloe gestures with a nod of her head towards Rachel. She’s still stretching, arms high above her head, a slip of skin reveals itself under the hem of her black shirt. Max pretends not to notice. She gives Chloe a quick hug before exiting her truck.

When she drops to the ground, Rachel loops her arm around her neck and leads her up the steps. Max finds she is more than content to follow.


End file.
